I look up at the night sky

As I say goodbye and try not to cry

At the thought of your excrete

Light pokes through the black sheet,

Shedding phosphorescence

In acquiescence

One day, she won’t return,

And it burns as they gleam

The soul, it escapes like steam

The stars aren’t like that,

But they can never be ours

These constellations treat me so well,

They will never quell me like she

But they don’t care,

They just stare

There are silences,

Dripping on the night sky

A series of voids,

Another one destroyed,

And try as I must to adjust,

I cannot avoid

So I look at the stars

And ignore my scars

I am so small

I am so appalled

In the seconds between now and forever are this brusque, abrasive man's fingers entangled with mine for the briefest of moments -- for once gentle and only urging and not at all brusque and abrasive like I had expected them to be -- and suddenly I am realizing that they are also warm, calloused, and comforting, with his larger palm engulfing my smaller one, the edges of his jacket sleeve transferring welcomed degrees of body heat to my own in the frigid bus. And suddenly I am realizing that the voice slipping just inches away into my ear is his, is so decidedly at home that I've failed to realize that they were his instructions to be followed and not mine, is so easy and familiar and thick that I wonder what it would be like to listen to every morning, what it would feel like even closer to my the nape of my neck, the curve of my lips, my tongue. If he would breathe my name in the hollow of my mouth, if he would whisper something sweet against my forehead in a groggy, dazed, lovely good morning greeting. I wonder if this brusque, abrasive man could be docile like this for hours on end, if he could bear to synchronize his heartbeat with mine in the deeper hours of the night, and then I think: Could I make this man mine? Could I make this moment last for a lifetime of seconds? If I were to pull him to me right here, right now, would I stop this moment from ever happening again?

The warmth is gone, suddenly, and with it the seconds of desire and curiosity and urge to ask him to murmur something again. My guide tells me that it is only five minutes until.

I believe in many things,

much of which I know to be true.

Like the sun is hot, ice is cold

And the kindness of others can be contagious.

I believe in the creator.

I also believe that the pure relationship that man once had with his creator has been corrupted and

demonized by those who would be considered

Impure and unclean in the eyes of the most Holy.

I believe it is an abomination to distort all of the words given by God to man.

That has happened.

I believe that many have been lead astray by men who would rather be important in their community than be right with God!

All Christ came to do was to let you know that God is all about Love, not Hate, not war, not strife juts pure unadulterated sweet all encompassing Love because once you have that, there is no room for strife, no room for hate, and the thought of war does not even enter your mind.

Look upon each other wth love and be grateful for that person in your life.

I believe God sends people to us to help,

I believe God sends people to help us in our time of need.

Don't put God in a nice neat box and call that your religion. How can you?

It says in the scriptures that God is Omnipotent,

The Alpha and Omega and The Great I Am!

You can't fit that in a box!

I have a spiritual relationship with the creator.

This is my view. It's ok if you disagree.

Shocks and locks

of golden hair

spilt as quilt

against my chest

Stories of caterpillars

wild things, a mouse

the princess and the pea

and ones made up by me

I was daddy in that life

a lash of sweet breath

rise and fall of tiny force

caressing a mind like mine

into deep, cool sleep

some things you wont forgive

I was daddy in that life

and then I died

the stories you tell

are of a deeper world

where the ducks are in a row

but this world

this world

is pompous and hard

it makes no sense

to own a heart

we will tell stories

and carry on

We have this baby. His name is Mojo. Well......thats his pet name. His real name is Marcus Oliver but we called him Joe when he was in her tummy. Prosperous Joe to be exact. A friend came up with Mojo and it fit for a couple of different reasons.

He is all farts and giggles and everywhere at once. She is at the center of his world. She is also at the.center of mine.

Her and me......we didn't need a traveling companion to compliment or complicate our life together but he laid designs upon us and I totally had it coming.

See........I have a checkered career as a parent. I got fired from my last gig for not being a team player. At that point I swore off them.

'The advantages are so worth all the sleepless nights, heartaches and sacrifices'

'Ooh they showed me what it was like to love unconditionally'

These are merely the stories you tell yourself to validate the experience and God knows I've done just that at times. So I should know, right?

All my illusions about being a parent were stripped from me. All that was left was the daily grinder of caring for a spirit in a meat suit.

Sounds cold yeah? It is, no argument. But this is what I had to work with / through.

In my own mind a perfect construct to see out my days in childless self reflection and wound licking.

So we have this baby. His name is Mojo. I didn't want him here but he knew better than me.

He knows I am broken and he is teaching me how to fix myself. In return I'm doing the very best job I can to care for someone without a safety net.

The one saving grace is that love fills the void after illusion has left. At least that is my experience.

Once again. We have this baby........

I want to be

That cat in the window

Watching life

So i don't have to be in it

Because the complication of life hurts

The stress

The anxiety

Decisions constantly

I just want to watch

From the inside

Because the walls of life are closing in

I scream in tears to find happiness

Terrified of the next chapter

Like a game of chess

I feel i'm in check mate

I can't move

K.j.a. (c) 2016

FATHER

---

First our food would go missing...

then my daughter couldn't find our dog...

then I couldn't find my daughter.

There's a man hiding in my house and no one believes me.

He only comes out at night, and we never hear him.

The police searched, and we searched, and no one found anything.

Tore the whole house apart.

But as soon as it turns dark...

he crawls out.

And tonight, he's come for me.

MOTHER

---

I wake up to an empty bed, rub my eyes.

"Mike?..."

The door's open. It wasn't last night.

"Mike?"

My stomach locks, breath tightens...

I put a tip toe on the floor, then a foot...

I feel monsters watch me from beneath the bed.

"MIKE!..."

He wouldn't leave me like this. 

Mike's gone... and now, he watches me-

I bolt out the door and down the steps, into the morning light.

My neighbors spot me, rush towards me as I ball my eyes out.

They ask me what's wrong, I can't stop crying to tell them.

I look up to my bedroom window:

the silhouette of a man watches me.

He raises his hand-

and waves to me.